Surviving redemption
by the original killerpineapple
Summary: DMSS AU - "I need to tell you, I just got out of prison."
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKRowling.

Summary: AU - after a brief reign, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are beaten and 16-year-old Severus goes to Azkaban. 28 years later he is released and starts trying to rebuild his life.

Chapter 1

The sun beats down unexpectedly into Severus' slightly upturned face, forcing him to wrinkle his cool, obsidian eyes against its glare. It glints across his greasy hair, sending lightening bolts down the strands clumsily scraped back and tied with an elastic band, which are by now far too long for his liking. His pale skin, almost translucent in the delicate, haggard circles around his eyes, warms quickly. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, allowing us a brief glance at his straight but yellowing teeth, before his lips are once again pressed together into a thin line.

Slowly, his own clothes (the ones he hasn't been allowed in almost thirty years) begin to fall comfortably into the dips and creases of his lean frame, until finally they start to create their familiar protective casing. His tailored, pinstriped suit fits his long limbs in a way he is unused to after so long wearing boiler suits either too short or too baggy for him. Although he is unaware of it happening, we can see his back beginning to straighten, his shoulders relax, his jaw unclench, and the staunch dignity of his younger years fills his older frame with renewed authority. His slender hands, usually working so deftly, lie dumbly at his sides.

Behind him, the grey stone walls of the prison block loom, seething now he is finally on the other side of the locked door. He looks around the small courtyard warily, jumping when a bird caws, instinctively clenching his hands into fists. Outside the wrought iron gates there is a vibrant, bustling world, so far changed from that polluted, fear-stained life he left behind. He aches to be a part of it, to try again, to do it right this time.

He has no one, nothing. The feeling is intoxicating. He has a blank canvas, onto which he can paint whatever he chooses, the dark, amateur paintings of his early attempts carefully locked away behind experience and age. All he needs is one person, an intrepid collector of unprecedented art, to give him his second chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Albus Dumbledore twitches slightly in his chair as a light knocking sounds at his door, pervading his muddled dreams. For a moment his eyelids flicker, the dwindling light of the fire sneaking in through the gap, and he licks his cracked lips. But the knocking is quiet, and he can slip back into sleep more easily than he can wake up.

Suddenly there is a sharp rap and he starts awake, glancing wildly about the room for a few seconds before settling back into the comfort of his chair. His fingers, which have gripped he threadbare arms, relax. His breath comes in short, shallow gasps until it steadies and the insistent knocking forces him to heave himself up, muttering the whole way to the door.

Albus Dumbledore is getting old. His bones ache, his hands tremble, his back is beginning to bend. His memory is not what it used to be and once or twice he has sat alone in his office for an amount of time he cannot ascertain, staring in terrifying confusion at the desk in front of him, trying to make sense of it all. His breathing is harsh, and he tires easily. Albus Dumbledore is sick of being reliable, sick of being trustworthy, sick of being helpful. Sometimes he wishes that people would sort their own problems out for once.

He opens the door and glances into the darkness of his front step. His eyes widen as a man he'd hoped never to see again emerges from the shadows.

"Professor Dumbledore." Severus nods respectfully.

"What are you doing here?" Albus whispers harshly, leaning out of his door and glancing outside nervously, looking for signs of movement at his neighbours' windows.

"I think we need to talk, Professor, don't you?"

Albus ushers Severus in impatiently, taking a last look outside before shutting the door.

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Severus stands in the middle of the room, his hands folded in front of him and his back straight. Albus stays near the door and reaches into his pocket, gripping his wand tightly. Severus notices and laughs derisively.

"Don't worry. I've just got out of prison, I have no intention of going back."

Albus looks down sheepishly before gesturing to the settee, which Severus perches on the edge of. He returns to his chair, trying to hide the difficulty he has sitting down. The last he had seen of Severus, he had been a sixteen year old boy with hunched shoulders and greasy hair, trembling fingers nervously tapping at the wood of the witness stand. Now he is a grown man, with eyes dark with bitterness and distrust. A grown man standing proud and determined, having learned through experience how to survive.

"You look well, Severus."

The statement comes out mechanical and strained, matching the smile on his haggard face. Albus has been dreading this conversation for a long time. Severus offers an obligatory grin, acknowledging that, impatient though he is, he is a guest in Albus' house.

"Thank you, but I didn't come here to exchange niceties."

Albus pales slightly and runs his tongue over his lower lip.

"Of course. How can I help?"

Severus catches Albus' eye and holds his gaze. He leans forward and clasps his hand in his lap.

"I need a job."

Albus is finding it hard to swallow. He wants to help; he always does. But he also wants to get Severus out of his home, and out of his life, as soon as possible.

"Severus, you must realise I can't employ you. I'm sorry, it's simply not possible."

Severus sighs.

"You know I'd be a valuable employee. I may not have the best reputation, but I am intelligent, and I'd work hard."

"That may be so, but you have criminal convictions. I cannot be seen to jeopardise the well-being of my students."

Severus' jaw clenches as he tries desperately to keep hold of his temper. When he speaks it comes out as a low hiss.

"That never seemed to bother you before."

Albus is nervous, but the accusation stings and makes him defensive, bolder.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I was your student, you may recall. You watched as I struggled, you watched as I started out in the wrong sort of life, you watched as I went to prison. You did nothing to help me!"

Severus is still staring Albus in the eye. His glare is intense.

"You made your own decisions."

"I was fifteen! I was fifteen when they got to me."

Albus feels a familiar pang of guilt. Familiar because of the number of young people he has tried to help, but has only let down in the end. Familiar because of the number of children who have become lost amongst so many needy individuals.

"I realise that I've failed you, and for that I truly am sorry. I know what you must have been through-"

"You have no idea what I've been through!"

Suddenly Severus is on his feet. Albus flinches away from the anger in his voice.

"You have no idea what it's like to miss twenty eight years of life, to be scared and alone for so long. You have no idea what Azkaban does to you. To you I may just be one failing in a long career, but that failing has cost me my life."

Severus plants his fists on the arms of Albus' chair. Their faces are so close together that Severus can see even the faintest lines on Albus' forehead. Albus can see a faded, yellow bruise on Severus cheek. Severus voice is a whisper.

"You owe me, old man."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The club is loud, layers of sound building on top of one another until the people sitting at the tables pushed off to the side have to shout into one another's ears to he heard. Music thuds from speakers mounted on the wall, vibrating down into the sticky dance floor, where the people crushed tightly together feel the throbbing in their ears and rising up through their veins. A fight breaks out between two young men, who are quickly escorted out, still yelling, by a burly security guard, a woman screaming and clinging to arm of one of them. A crate is dropped. Bottles smash.

Severus mixes drinks deftly, slender fingers brushing bottles of brightly coloured liquids. He doesn't speak to the customers shrieking across the bar, and he's far from polite. He remains in employment because he is quick, and, as of yet, he has never spilled a drop. There are other members of staff who are willing to smile.

A boy weaves his way through the crowd, standing up and walking to the bar in one fluid movement. He moves with the arrogance of all twenty-something men, with the whole world at his feet and a lifetime in which to enjoy it. He's an average height, slight, and dressed simply in black jeans and a plain white shirt of obvious expense. He rests casually against the bar, crossing his hands demurely, and we can see a silver cuff link in his right sleeve. It has the initials DM engraved into it, challenging anyone not to know his name.

He orders a Jack Daniels and diet coke, leaning against the bar slightly so that Severus can hear him more clearly. Severus hands over the change, lingering for perhaps a moment too long. The boy smiles charmingly, his eyes glittering and glancing down in fake modesty, and asks what time he finishes. He looks faintly disappointed when Severus replies five o'clock.

"Pity," he whispers into Severus' ear, biting his bottom lip coyly. "I was quite looking forward to seeing how skilled those hands are in other areas."

The boy starts to walk away. Severus swallows, his lips dry. For the first time that night he is aware of the pounding of blood in his ears, and the thin layer of sweat between his back and the thick material of his black shirt.

He knows that he is not going to get that offer again.

"Wait."

The boy smirks, before adopting a look of mild curiosity and turning around.

"I'll see you round the back in five minutes."

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Severus pushes the boy against the wall of the alleyway, which is lit a dull orange by a single flickering street lamp. He kisses him harshly, remembering how good it feels to draw his tongue across another man's lips. He knows he should be more gentle with the boy, but there are no protests to the rough treatment. Besides, he needs this. He pins the boys wrists to the wall with one hand, hearing his silver cuff links scrape against the brick, and pushes his knee up between his thighs. The boy moans.

"What's your name?"

"." Usually so eloquent, he curses himself for stumbling over his words, and feels a light blush rising in his cheeks.

Severus repeats the name quietly to himself, as though tasting it.

"Do you have somewhere we can go?" To Draco's surprise, Severus steps back. Fearing for his dignity, he forces back the look of disappointment.

"I need to tell you, I just got out of prison."

Draco lets out a breath and nods slowly. A slight worry rises in his throat and his heart beats faster, but Draco is not one to deny himself what he wants. He looks Severus up and down and decides that, if it came to it, he could probably take the older, wiry man. Anyway, he quite likes the danger. Finally, he glances back at Severus' face and grins.

"So, are we going then?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Severus lies on his back with one hand behind his head and the other holding a cigarette to his lips, the white sheets covering him from the waist down. Draco leans out of the window, letting the night air cool his warm skin. Severus stares at the young man's naked form shamelessly, knowing that this is the reason he has chosen to stand so boldly in the moonlight, smoking out of the window. Draco pretends not to notice the attention, before turning and smirking at Severus, who smirks back, and he casually flicks his cigarette out of the window. He slowly saunters back over to the bed, teasing, and straddles Severus' hips. He plucks the cigarette out of Severus' hand and stubs it out on the bedside table, then entwines their fingers together and pins Severus' hands to the bed, leaning towards him. Severus exhales the final drag from his cigarette and their lips are crushed together in a haze of smoke and sweat and the unbearable summer heat.

bdbdbd

Draco is late down to the breakfast table, and his father glares at him disdainfully over the top of his newspaper. His gaze lingers on a small but dark bite mark at his throat, before he looks away in disgust. Usually, Draco wouldn't let a man mark him, but usually the sex was nothing like it had been the previous night. Draco delights in his father's reaction, and acts all the more chirpy for it.

"Good morning, father."

Lucius grunts dismissively, trying to pay attention to his newspaper and not to his son.

"I suppose I needn't ask where you were last night?"

"You can ask if you wish, father, but I doubt you'd like the response."

Lucius drops the paper to the table and gives Draco a piercing stare, but he is too busy peeling an orange to notice. When Lucius speaks, his voice shakes with indignation and anger.

"I have come to terms with the lifestyle you have chosen to lead, even if I do not condone it..."

Lucius is cut short as a servant enters the room. Draco accepts the coffee he is offered with one of his charming smiles, and Lucius places his hand over his cup to indicate that he doesn't want any, his lips pursed. The servant places the coffee pot on the table and leaves. Draco makes a show of watching him leave. Lucius continues in hushed tones.

"But I will not tolerate you dragging this family's reputation through the mud and humiliating me further, with your name in the paper every bloody week. It is not acceptable."

"My name's in the paper?" Draco drawls languidly, seemingly unaffected by his father's harsh words. Lucius tosses the paper across the table.

"Is that really a picture you wish the public to see? Is that what you want to be recognised for?"

"I think it's quite an attractive picture. Of me, anyway. I mean, he's not a patch on the man I fucked last..."

Draco smirks as his father sweeps past him and storms from the room, slamming the door behind him. He leans back in his chair, puts his feet on the table and settles back to read the Daily Prophet's retelling of their young celebrity's recent activities.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Malfoy Manor is made of stone. The entire house; slate, marble, jade.

The bright August sun filters through the windows, illuminating the swirls of dust from the heavy velvet drapes, and spills onto the floors. It gently brushes the petals of the flowers, which raise their heads to the light, and makes rainbows of the glassware. It glints up the stairwells, and is swallowed into the darker heart of the place.

And yet still the house is cold. Draco can rest his flushed cheek to the tiles and it will cool instantly, his delicate skin uncomfortable in the sweltering summer sun.

But Draco wants the heat. He wants the stifling, humid air and the beads of perspiration on his brow. He wants to feel hot blood pounding through his veins. He wants to feel his skin burn.

bdbdbd

"Draco!" Severus seems a little shocked to see the young man standing on his doorstep. Draco just smiles casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to drop by unannounced. As though they knew each other. Severus falters slightly, unsure of what to do, and a few moments pass before he invites Draco in.

Draco glances around. He hadn't previously paid much attention to the small flat, having been otherwise engaged last night and in too much of a hurry to get home in the small hours of this morning. The main room serves as both a kitchen and a dining room, the two being separated by a wall a little above waist height which backs the oven and benches. There is no living room, but there is an armchair by the window, and an extensive book collection. There is a door to the left which, Draco remembers with a grin, leads to the bedroom and, beyond that, an en suite bathroom. However meagre the furnishings are, we cannot help but notice that the house is scrupulously tidy, almost clinically so.

'_I'm slumming it' _Draco thinks with a grimace, having always prided himself on accepting nothing but the best. Then his attention in drawn back to Severus, who has just clicked the door shut, and his grimace becomes a smile. The man is impressive, even if his home is not.

"I know it's not much." Severus tries not to sound too defensive.

Draco starts, embarrassed that his thoughts had been so obvious. He turns, giving his most charming smile.

"I like it. It's minimalist."

Quickly tiring of small talk, Draco takes a step towards Severus and kisses him lightly. Severus deepens the kiss, gently biting his lower lip, and takes him to bed.

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"What happened with your job?" Draco, lying with his head on Severus' shoulder, doesn't really care. He's a pampered boy, and has no real knowledge or appreciation for the world of work. He has, however, been raised to display manners, even if they have little or no sincerity. Besides, he isn't getting nearly enough attention.

"Oh, I got fired." Severus doesn't look away from his newspaper.

"Oh. I'm sorry." There is a slight pause as Draco wonders how much of this is really his business. "What will you do?"

"Don't worry. It was only temporary anyway. I start a new job in a month or so."

"As what?"

"I'll be teaching at Hogwarts."

Draco's lip twitches in disdain as the mention of his former school.

"They couldn't pay _me_ to go back there. The trash they let in, it's bloody ridiculous. And the teachers are almost as infuriating as the students. Not one of them had the slightest interest in teaching me anything."

Severus' attention is finally torn away from his newspaper, and he smirks at Draco with obvious intent. Draco's eyes widen, and he feels a mixture of excitement and trepidation stirring in the pit of his stomach.

"Really? I mustn't be at all like these teachers then." He puts his newspaper down on the bedside table, pushing Draco onto his back and pinning him down. "Because there are certain things I would be _very_ interested in teaching you."

A smaller Draco, staring shamelessly from the front page of this morning's Daily Prophet, gasps with a mixture of pride and shock at what his flesh and blood counterpart allows himself to be taught.

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For the fifth time this week, Mrs Dalton of Number 54 hears strange bangs and muffled cries coming from the flat upstairs. She's never investigated these noises, but she's been around long enough to know exactly what is going on and, as she's fond of telling her husband, she does not approve.

Mrs Dalton tuts, glaring at the ceiling, and turns the television up.

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Draco taps his manicured fingernails on the chaise longue, his eyes unmoving despite the book in front of him. The hand he's leaning on has been asleep for at least twenty minutes, but he hasn't noticed. He lets out a frustrated sigh and sits up. He has lost the ability to concentrate, and he has been restless for days now. He tells his father he doesn't know what's come over him, but really he knows exactly what is wrong.

Severus is under his skin. He has never felt this way about a man before; so utterly enthralled. Utterly enthralled, despite his lack of money or social status, by his intellect and pride and silent authority. Utterly enthralled by the power crackling just beneath the surface. He tells himself that what they have is still just about sex. It's only different because this time it's sex with someone he is actually attracted to, not just some pretty boy who'd look good on his arm. Only different because this time he's the inexperienced boy, the one craving attention and approval.

Secretly he knows that he shouldn't go running to Severus, but he tells himself that one last time will get it out of his system. He slips on his shoes and saunters to the door, telling himself, in complete confidence, that he is simply going for one last fuck. By the time he is half way down the drive he is actually starting to believe it.

Malfoys are good liars, you see.

bdbdbd

Severus, perturbed by Draco's manner, stops kissing him and rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Draco seems strangely nervous, his body's tense. Severus feels an uncomfortable churning in the pit of his stomach as a blush spreads over the cheeks of his usually brazen boy.

"What's wrong?"

Draco shakes his head.

"Nothing."

Severus places two fingers on the side of Draco's jaw and gently turns his head to look him straight in the face. Severus' dark eyes burn. Draco's breath catches in his throat and he tries to squirm away.

"No." Severus' voice is calm and quiet. Draco stills. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's too much." Draco's voice is a whisper. There's a pause, and Draco mistakes Severus' silence for an invitation to continue. "It's too intense."

Severus moves his hand to Draco's cheek, his thumb moving in circles on Draco's temple.

"Are you scared?"

Draco snorts with derision, claims that fear is for dunderheaded Hufflepuffs, and his expression begs for Severus' reassurance.

"I don't really do light and fluffy, I'm afraid."

Draco smiles and playfully punches Severus' shoulder. Severus kisses Draco, nipping his lower lip between his teeth.

"Just for you though..." he bites Draco's collarbone. A gasp. "...whenever you want me to turn down the heat..." his tongue darts across one of Draco's nipples, making Draco moan softly. "...just say the word." And as the afternoon turns to evening, and Draco's body begins to arch and rock against Severus', he slowly loses all power of speech, until the only words he can remember are 'yes' and 'fuck' and 'Severus'.

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Lucius passes his son's bedroom, and hesitates for a moment before turning back and knocking on the door. There's no answer, so Lucius opens it. Draco's bed has not been slept in, and has not been slept in for some time. Lucius frowns, trying not to think of where his son might be, and slams the door.

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Draco lounges in the sole armchair, his legs draped over one of the arms, and stares sulkily out of the window. Severus looks over the list of ingredients once more before casting a quick Dry

Eye charm and starting to slice an onion. Draco sighs loudly. Severus can't ignore him any longer.

"What?"

"I hate this house."

"I know you do, but unfortunately it's the only one I have."

Draco heaves himself from the chair and meanders to the short wall cutting him off from the kitchen. He leans on his elbows and rests his chin in his hands.

"We could check into a hotel?"

"I don't have the money to check into a hotel just because you fancy a change of scenery."

Draco's presses his lips together and his eyes are bright.

"You never take me anywhere. You're so selfish. I let you do whatever the fuck you want to me and what do I get in return?"

Severus slams the knife down on the bench, pressing both his palms down onto the surface and finally snapping his head up to look at Draco.

"Will you stop being such a brat! Firstly, if I thought the only reason you let me fuck you was to gain something from it I'd never touch you again; secondly, it's not as though you don't enjoy it too; and thirdly, I am trying my best here with what little I have. So for once in your life will you think about someone other than your goddamn self and try to understand the bastard of a situation I'm in!"

Draco pushes himself away from the wall and starts to storm from the room. Severus is quicker, though, and manages to grab his arm. Draco turns sharply and raises his hand to slap Severus, but Severus catches his wrist and forces his hand back down. Both men are breathing heavily. Their jaws are set and they each refuse to be the first to break their poisonous glares.

Finally Severus' face softens.

"I'm sorry I shouted."

"Yeah, well you should be."

Severus' lips purse. Draco relents.

"I'm sorry too."

"Come here." Severus pulls Draco into a rough hug, kissing the top of his head. "It's only for a while, okay? When I get back on my feet it'll be better, I promise. But until then I'm afraid we're stuck here."

Draco pulls away, looking slightly unsure.

"Maybe not." Severus raises an eyebrow. "We could go to mine."

Draco has never brought a man home before. The very idea of it would send Lucius to an early grave. Draco thinks about the look on his father's face if he found the two of them in bed together, and he smirks, his mind made up.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

They barely make it to Draco's bedroom before they're tearing at buttons and zips, breathing heavily between kisses which are bound to leave bruises. Severus' hands are on Draco's chest, his jutting hipbones, the curve of his arse. He buries his fingers in Draco's hair and pulls his head back, exposing his neck. Draco grasps Severus' shirt tightly and pulls him closer. Severus pushes Draco against the door, slamming it shut.

Downstairs, Lucius steps silently into the entrance hall and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. He sighs to himself, running an elegant hand through his long hair, and removes his thin cloak. He hangs it on the hooks by the door and makes his way upstairs to his study.

Draco's hand scrambles for the door handle behind him, searching for the lock, but Severus is tugging impatiently at his shirt, so Draco raises his arms and their lips are parted for a moment as Severus roughly pulls the shirt over his head and flings it away. Draco locks his fingers around the back of Severus' neck and pulls him forward, biting his bottom lip. Severus hisses and draws his nails sharply across Draco's bare back. Knowing he is fast losing the ability to think, Draco once again fumbles with the door handle, but the angle of his wrist makes it difficult to turn the ancient lock, and before he can manage he finds himself at the foot of the bed. Severus kisses him gently, and pushes him onto his knees.

Lucius reaches the top of the stairs and runs his hand over the end of the banister, scowling at the dust left on his finger tips. He brushes them impatiently across his robes and continues along the hall. Draco's room is the second on the right. Lucius heard the slam of the door as he entered the house. He knows his son is home. He slows as he approaches the door, and thinks that maybe he should try once again to mend their broken relationship. He raises his hand to knock, then his lip curls at how groveling the action is. He starts to walk away. But an annoying voice in the back of his mind tells him to forget his pride, and he turns back to the door, his hand gripping the cool metal of the handle.

Draco, aware of the servants' gossip, raises a hand to Severus' mouth, stifling a moan. Neither of them notice the slow turning of the door handle.

Lucius swallows and his shoulders tense. Just before he pushes the door open, his Malfoy pride comes flooding back, stopping him in his tracks. He shakes his head stubbornly and strides away down the hall.

Severus' hips twitch forwards. Draco rests his head on Severus' thigh for a moment, before standing up and finally locking the door.

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A while later, Draco wakes in a cold bed. He glances at the empty space beside him, and feels the uncomfortable prick of tears behind his eyes. He blinks them away in frustration and stands too quickly, making his head spin. He sits down again, and when his vision clears he notices a small roll of parchment on the desk, weighed down by an ink well.

The writing is small and neat, and entirely unlike his own ostentatious script. He is unsure whether or not the short note, 'I'll be at home all night.', is an invitation or a demand, but his anger and hurt quickly disappear, and a small smile crosses his face.

Draco refuses to admit that he is smitten.

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Draco saunters into the dining room and comes to an abrupt halt when he notices his father sitting at the table, his long fingers absentmindedly tracing the contours of the glass of red wine in front of him and his gaze fixed at an unremarkable point on the wall. Draco clears his throat and Lucius starts.

"I'm going out. I shan't be back before tomorrow."

Lucius seems to take a moment to digest what he has been told, as though he'd been woken from a deep sleep, before nodding distractedly. Draco, his eyebrows knit in confusion, nods back and heads for the front door.

"Draco?"

Draco half turns, steeling himself for an argument.

"Be careful."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Draco groans and pulls a pillow over his head, pressing it to his ears. The curtains and window are open, spilling light and sound and fresh air into the bedroom and, though the sunlight is gentle, and the breeze welcome, the noise of traffic and urgent voices is torturous after the brooding of the past few months of sultry, silent summer.

There's a muffled bang in the next room, and then Severus cursing in a low, angry voice that sends a guilty thrill down Draco's body. With another groan he rolls out of bed and stretches, the whole thing done in one graceful movement. He pulls on a pair of pyjama bottoms he finds crumpled in the corner of one of the drawers under the bed, and slinks out of the room.

Severus is rushing around, muttering the sorts of obscenities Draco, with his careful upbringing and expensive education, would use only in the dead of night, when no other word was strong enough. It makes Draco smirk, especially when he hears the faintest trace of the working class accent Severus tries so hard to hide.

"Looking for something?"

Severus glances up, his eyes resting for a moment at the way his clothes hang low on Draco's hips, before resuming his frantic searching.

"Yes, my watch."

"When did you last see it?" Draco stifles a yawn, covering his mouth demurely with a pale hand.

"I can't remember. I think – damn it!" A coffee cup clatters to the floor and spins on its side before coming to an abrupt halt when it strikes the wall. Coffee drips from the edge of the table and pools on the floor. Severus snatches the damp Daily Prophet from the table and shakes it irritably before throwing it back down.

Draco wraps his arms around Severus' waist and places a tender kiss on his lips, reaching a hand up to wipe a drop of coffee from his cheek.

"Calm down. Stress doesn't become you."

Severus snorts, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's your fault, keeping me up until Merlin knows what time this morning."

"Well, that's the price you pay for your taste in men. Stop worrying about your watch. You're going to be fine today. Everything will be fine." Draco soothes. "And if it's not, I'll let you do that thing you wanted to do."

Severus raises an eyebrow. "What thing?"

Draco laughs. "_That _thing. Now get out and let me get some sleep." He pushes Severus towards the fireplace and gives him a quick kiss goodbye before Severus mutters 'Hogwarts' and disappears in a whirl of dust and smoke.

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Draco and Lucius spend an awkward hour eating lunch in the conservatory of Malfoy Manor. Draco hates how quiet it is compared to Diagon Alley and the busy London nightclubs he spends so much of his time in. It's quieter, even, than the nights he now spends with Severus, who has surprised him on occasion by breaking his usual reserved silence and launching into a passionate discussion on an area of the dark arts Draco hasn't heard of, or some great work of literature Draco is bound not to have read, or a philosophical debate Draco can't quite understand completely, try though he may. Those nights usually end on the living room floor, when Draco can take no more of his body's physical reaction to the tone of Severus' voice, or the way his brow furrows in concentration, or how his dark eyes glitter almost red in the firelight.

Lucius purses his lips and continues to rifle through a stack of paperwork, grimacing when he raises his cup to his mouth only to find that his tea's gone cold. Draco sighs with boredom and rings the silver bell on the table. He picks up his small glass of wine (Lucius had disapproved of him drinking so early in the day) and curls his lip in disgust. His father normally has impeccable taste when it comes to wine, but Draco reasons that he's been under a lot of stress recently at work. In fact, he probably just asked the housekeeper to buy some along with her weekly shop.

A few minutes later, the servant still hasn't arrived, and Draco tuts impatiently. Lucius looks up.

"What is it?"

"This servant is taking forever. What could he possibly be doing?"

"Oh, I had to let him go." Lucius is once again staring at his papers. Draco is slightly irritated. The servant has an amazing arse, and was always good for the occasional fumble in the more secluded parts of the grounds, although Draco has to admit that he doesn't even know his name, and probably wouldn't bother to ask if they met in the street. "Caught him stealing the silverware."

Draco accepts this unquestioningly, although something about it doesn't quite ring true. "Well, isn't there a replacement?"

"Not as of yet."

"What am I supposed to do then, serve my own tea?"

"I doubt it would kill you."

Draco sighs in exasperation, folds his arms across his chest and slumps in his chair. He stares out of the glass doors across the lawn, watching an orange leaf from one of the trees float to the ground on the gentle breeze, and longs to be back in Severus' dingy flat, missing the solitary armchair and the heat from the fire.

bdbdbd

Draco is lying in bed with his head on Severus' chest. They've had to add another blanket to the bed, even with the warmth their bodies generate, and the window is firmly shut. Draco traces his finger across a thin silver mark on Severus' arm.

"What's that scar from?"

"Got into a fight in prison." Severus' voice sounds bored, although Draco has known him long enough to know that it's just a hint that he's straying onto a subject Severus does not wish to talk about. Draco brushes the pad of his thumb against another smooth, raised scar.

"What about that one?"

Severus clears his throat. "Prison."

Draco notices yet another scar. "What about-"

Severus interrupts him, irritated. "I'm going to save you some time here, love. They're all from prison."

Draco is silent for a moment, before continuing in a quieter, mildly curious voice.

"Is that where you got your tattoo?"

Severus instinctively twists his arm to hide the tattoo, but Draco gently turns it back, trailing his fingers along the curved, black lines. It seems an age before Severus answers him.

"No."

Draco feels oddly uncomfortable, worry burning suddenly in his chest and stomach. Severus has tensed. The room is cold. Draco senses that he should stop, but as the minutes stretch out the worry fails to diminish. The understanding he has of being with a convicted criminal sharpens, and for the first time since they met, it's real.

"Where, then?"

"It's none of your bloody business!" Severus snaps, and attempts to shake Draco off him. Draco sits up, leaning on one hand.

"Yes it is! I don't want to find out twenty years from now what kind of man I'm with! For all I know, you could have been in prison for anything from theft to assault!" He laughs incredulously, then, jokingly, "Murder, even!"

Severus' jaw twitches, but remains otherwise unmoved, his ebony eyes locking onto Draco's. A street light shines through a gap in the curtains, illuminating his prominent features with an orange glow and casting dark shadows across his pale face. The half-smile falls from Draco's face and he goes white.

"Christ, Severus. You didn't?"

Severus looks away. "Lie back down."

Draco does, timidly, and clings tightly to Severus' chest. Severus wraps a protective arm around his shoulders. Slowly, Draco calms down, and his heart beat becomes a steady rhythm. Severus sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes.

"Have you ever heard of the Death Eaters?"

"Erm...I think they might have been the support act when I went to see the Weird Sisters."

"What?"

"Or was that the Death Slayers?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. No, about thirty years ago there was a wizard called Tom Riddle. He attempted to take control of the wizarding world, along with his followers, the Death Eaters." Severus pauses. "He'd failed within a year, of course. He went to Azkaban and was given the Kiss, and that was the end of that."

"What's that got to do with you?"

"I was a Death Eater. That's the...tattoo...that's..." He takes a shaky breath. "I killed someone, and I went to prison."

"Who?" He feels Severus shrug.

"I don't know. A woman. A muggle." Another shrug. "They told me to do it, so I did. It was all very..." He searches for the right word. "quick."

Draco holds him tighter, trembling slightly. After a while, he finds his voice, and whispers that it's okay. Severus turns onto his side, facing Draco, gripping his arm. His eyebrows are knit together in concern and confusion.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you? I've killed someone. I went to prison for murder."

Draco pictures Severus standing above a woman, his wand held before him. But the woman's oblivious to everything, and Severus is surrounded by hooded, faceless men, all holding their own wands. Amongst them he's so young and vulnerable. And he's scared. He's shaking, and his eyes are clouded by tears and for some reason, as long as he keeps this picture in his head, it's not as bad.

"It was a long time ago. You're not the same person."

Severus' face fills with relief, and Draco feels himself sob, a tear rolling down his cheek. Severus wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head, shushing him gently. Eventually Draco stops.

"I've been thinking, we should go away somewhere. A few weeks somewhere in the Lake District maybe, or abroad even. Italy, or France." He's whispering. He feels his eyelids grow heavy and he stifles a yawn. Draco, already half asleep, mutters "maybe". Before he drifts off, Draco asks Severus why he joined the Death Eaters. Severus briefly considers lying.

"Because someone asked me to."

"Who?"

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

Draco finally gives in to sleep, and Severus can feel his slow breathing on his chest. Severus holds him tighter, and stares into the blackness of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Draco closes the book he's reading and balances it next to his legs on the arm of the chair. Severus is at the desk he had purchased the week before, head down, hand moving quickly over a stack of parchment. The only noise in the room is the scratching of his quill, joined occasionally by Draco's bored sighs. He's bored of the flat, of the lack of entertainment besides dusty old books. Bored, even, of the company, when his attention is directed elsewhere.

It's dark outside. It's Friday night, and Draco can hear music from the nearby nightclubs, people laughing, the click of high heels and the crackling of dry Autumn leaves trampled underfoot. He slides out of the chair and crosses the room to stand behind Severus, slipping his arms around his shoulders. He kisses the spot just below Severus' ear.

"Take me out."

"I'm busy Draco." Severus doesn't even look up. Draco pulls his chair out slightly, earning an irritated tut, and slides into Severus' lap, straddling him.

"Put your quill down."

Severus does, smiling patiently and resting his hands on Draco's hips.

"What is it?"

Draco pouts prettily, drawing attention to his full, pink lips. Severus kisses his lower lip, biting it gently. Draco squirms.

"I want to go out please."

"I have to finish marking these essays. Maybe tomorrow?"

Draco leans down to lick the hollow made by Severus' collar bone. Severus moans quietly and lets his eyes flicker shut. Draco whispers, his breath warming Severus' skin.

"Please Daddy, I've been such a good boy."

Severus smirks, smacks Draco's arse lightly, and pushes him away.

"I'm sorry Draco, but I have things I need to do."

Draco flushes, not used to being told 'no', and stands up, crossing his arms across his chest sulkily. Severus steels himself for an argument.

"So first you haven't the _money_ to take me out, and now you haven't the _time_?"

"I haven't the time _tonight_. If I get these essays marked I can spend all of tomorrow with you. Can you wait until tomorrow?" He touches Draco's arm, and Draco pulls away from him. The wine glasses on the counter start to vibrate, their rims knocking against one another. Severus breathes deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose, remembering the destruction they had caused to his home the last time they'd had a fight.

"I don't want to wait until tomorrow! I want to go out _now_!" A couple of books fall from the shelves around the room, thumping onto the carpet.

"You can't always have what you want, Draco!" The window bangs open, and the sudden breeze sweeps the essays across the desk. Severus slams a hand down, keeping them from falling onto the floor. He is trying to remain calm, but can feel himself about to lose his temper.

"Don't try to tell me what I can and can't have! I'm sick of being controlled and dismissed and patronised. I don't deserve to be treated this way!" The cupboard doors are swinging open and shut now, and the knives and forks on the draining board are rattling against one another.

Severus laughs bitterly. "I'll tell you what you deserve, boy."

Draco continues as though he hadn't spoken, hissing through clenched teeth.

"You're pathetic and possessive and sometimes I hate you."

Severus stands quickly, towering above Draco. The light flickers erratically and the wine glasses smash onto the tiled kitchen floor. The drawers of the desk shoot out and dart across the room, spilling quills and vials and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He hears a crash in the next room as the bathroom door springs open and strikes the chest of drawers.

"For fuck's sake, if you want to go out, go out! I never said you _couldn't_, I just said _I_ couldn't!"

Draco blinks back tears of frustration. By now almost the entire book collection is tumbling to the carpet, a few flying across the room and leaving dents in the walls.

"Fine, but don't expect me to come back!"

"Well that's fine by me!"

Draco turns on his heel and storms to the door, knocking the coat stand over as he snatches his coat. As he slams the door, Severus hurls his inkwell and it shatters against the wood. The black ink drips slowly down to the floor and lies in the contours of the shattered porcelain. Severus slumps back into his chair and searches amongst the scattered papers on the desktop for a cigarette, which he lights with shaking hands. It's a while before the objects in the room stop trembling.

bdbdbd

Draco leans languidly against the wall in the club in which he met Severus, a glass of Jack Daniels and diet coke held in one hand. As usual, he's the centre of attention. Men about his age glance shyly in his direction now and again, but generally are not daring enough to approach him and ask for this dance. He glances down, swilling his drink around his glass, and when he looks up he meets the gaze of a dark-haired boy, a little younger than him. He grins arrogantly and, when Draco smiles back, starts across the floor to him. He places his hand on the back of Draco's neck and pulls him into a kiss which is hard but, compared to the ones he has become used to, gentle, and leads him onto the dance floor.

bdbdbd

Severus paces through his flat, another cigarette between his long fingers, his other hand clenching and unclenching by his side. He's been chain smoking since Draco left, and now realises that the box is empty. He crushes it in his fist and tosses it onto the table, perching on the edge of the armchair. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees and intertwining his fingers. He stands suddenly, picking up his cloak as he heads for the door.

bdbdbd

Severus sweeps straight past the bouncers, ignoring them as they call back to him that he has to queue like everyone else. His eyes scan the room for a moment until he finds Draco. He's dancing with someone, smiling coyly. The other man's hands are all over him. Draco lets him tug up the edge of his shirt and slide his hand underneath to touch the skin Severus knows will be soft and warm; lets him slip his tongue into the mouth Severus has owned for the past four months. Severus' nostrils flare and he sets his jaw, pushing people out of the way to get to the centre of the dance floor. He grabs Draco by the arm and jerks him away from the young man, dragging him back towards the door. Draco gasps in surprise, and the other man yells after him. Severus turns back, hand darting out to his throat. He leans down until their faces are almost touching, and warns him to stay the fuck out of his way. He throws him backwards, sending him sprawling onto the floor and scattering a group of people who had previously been oblivious to the whole situation. He strides from the club as Draco tries to pull his arm out of Severus' grip and yell over the noise of the music.

Outside, the cold air hits Draco and he shivers involuntarily. He continues to shout at Severus until they're a fair distance from the club.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't do that! Let go of me!"

Severus turns suddenly and slaps Draco's face, hard. Draco gasps in surprise and pain, and feels tears sting his eyes. Severus' fingers tighten on Draco's arm and he draws him closer. He raises his other hand again, and Draco flinches, but instead of the slap he expects Severus holds his jaw steady, stopping him from squirming away. When he speaks, his voice is a threatening hiss.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, boy. You're mine, and if I ever see you with another man again I will make you sorry. Do you understand?"

Draco says nothing, his eyes wide.

"Do you understand?" Severus repeats. Draco whines and nods as well as he can with Severus' vice-like grip on his face. "Good."

"Severus?"

Severus' hold loosens. "Yes?"

Draco clings to Severus' cloak. "Take me home."

bdbdbd

They apparate back to the flat, ending up in the living room, next to the front door. Severus kisses Draco roughly and pushes him against the wall, kicking a book aside. Draco fumbles with Severus' belt buckle as Severus removes Draco's trousers and tosses them aside. Draco wraps his legs around Severus' waist, feeling Severus' hands steadying him. He gasps as he feels Severus inside him, and clings to the thick, black material of his cloak. Apart from their heavy breathing the whole thing is done in near silence, and neither of them last long.

As Draco comes he buries his face in Severus' neck and lets out a quiet sob. Severus follows seconds after, feeling Draco's tears on his skin.

They're still for a moment, letting their breathing return to normal, and when Draco speaks his voice is shaky.

"Severus?" Severus says nothing, but raises his hand to stroke Draco's hair. "I...I want...I..."

Severus shushes him gently. "It's all right. What do you want baby?"

"Make love to me?"

Severus gently tightens his grip on Draco, who still has his legs wrapped around him and his fingers buried in his cloak, and carries him to bed.

bdbdbd

Draco's asleep, curled into Severus' side. Severus leans up on his elbow and raises his other hand to brush the soft, white hair from Draco's face. It feels like silk between his fingers. His cheeks are flushed slightly pink, and his long, inky eyelashes create a stark contrast to his porcelain, almost translucent skin. He draws his thumb across the curve of Draco's lower lip. He runs his hand down Draco's smooth, hairless chest and toned stomach, muscles well-defined from hours spent in his personal gym. His arms are similarly muscled, but his hands are slender and unlined, with long, elegant fingers and manicured nails. There's a faint line of fair hair starting just below his belly button and stretching down past his prominent hipbones. His skin is white, so much so that Severus is almost surprised that it is warm against his hand, and it is entirely unblemished. There are no scars, unlike Severus' own abused body, and the only marks are two small bruises, barely formed. One on his bicep, an oval thumbprint; the other is on his face, on one of his high, distinctive cheekbones. Severus feels an uncomfortable pang of guilt, and leans down to kiss the blue-purple smudge. He continues to explore Draco, looking for a flaw, some slight imperfection, anything which means he doesn't have to be with him any more, but there's nothing. Draco shivers and Severus pulls the blankets over his shoulders, whispering, in dismay, that he's perfect.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

Severus stands in the kitchen, his elbows resting on the bench and his hands around a mug of strong, black coffee. He sighs and runs a hand over his face, covering his eyes for a moment until he hears the creak of his bedroom door opening.

"Careful." Severus nods towards the broken glass they've yet to clean from the floor and Draco stops short.

"Thanks." He mumbles shyly, staring down at his bare feet. They're silent for a moment, until a breeze sweeps through the still open window and Draco shivers, wrapping his arms around his chest. "I hate the cold."

Outside, the clouds hang low in the sky, dark and heavy with the rain waiting to fall and dampen the earth the summer has left dry and cracked.

Severus picks his way across the cluttered floor and holds Draco to him, feeling him tense for a moment before relaxing and returning the embrace. He kisses the top of his head tenderly and whispers that he's sorry. Draco's sorry, too.

"Fancy going out tonight?"

Draco pulls back slightly, smiling. "Where?"

"Anywhere you want." Severus smiles too, mostly out of relief. Draco stands on his toes and reaches up to kiss Severus' cheek before dashing back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Severus is left standing amongst the broken glass and torn paper, not moving much, save for the nervous tapping of his fingers against his thigh. The smile falls from his face and he looks older than his forty-four years, the shadows of Azkaban lurking beneath his sallow skin. He hears Draco's chirpy humming from the next room and his stomach churns. He feels sick.

It's a few minutes before he moves back to the kitchen, absent-mindedly picking up the odd piece of debris from the scuffed wooden floor.

bdbdbd

Lucius is in his study when Draco comes home. The thick, velvet drapes are drawn, blocking out the dim light from the overcast sky, and the flames from the candles spluttered and died hours ago, in the dead of the night. Lucius had fallen asleep over dozens of rolls of parchment in the early hours of the morning, and it is only now that he jolts awake.

Draco enters the room, giving a cursory knock before stepping in and flicking on the lights.

"Morning father. I need some money." He doesn't thrust his hand out, as he had done as a child, but the assumption that he is entitled to anything he wants is evident even without the gesture. He taps his foot impatiently and glances around, sneering at a thin film of dust on the bookcase. Lucius wonders why he allowed his son to become so spoilt, so arrogant. He notices the contempt the boy has for him, and he feels his indignation rise in his throat, like bile. He coughs quietly and straightens his back.

"Then I suggest you get a job."

The look of shock on Draco's face would be amusing, Lucius thinks, if it weren't so thoroughly pathetic. His eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar, before his entire face twists into a grimace.

"Why should I? We're rich. What's the point of being rich if one still needs to earn a living?"

"Firstly, _we_ are not rich. _I _am rich, and you shall not be until you come into your inheritance upon my death. Secondly, do you really think the family fortune alone is enough to sustain our lifestyle?"

Draco starts to interrupt, but Lucius stands and raises his hand to silence him.

"Thirdly, and you may wish to take note of this, you are a spoilt, pampered, selfish individual and I no longer wish to indulge you. You are twenty-four years old and it's about time you learned some responsibility. Now, I could get you a job at the Ministry. I hear Muggle Arti- "

"I don't _want _a job!" Draco's cheeks are flushed and his eyes narrowed. His head is lowered slightly, like a bull preparing to charge, and his fists are clenched by his side in a pose Lucius has seen infinitely many times. The only thing Draco seems to have grown out of is the tears.

"Fine, then you'll find someone else to keep you, because I won't any longer."

Draco takes a step towards him. Suddenly the image of the small, delicate boy he used to be disappears and is replaced by the adult in front of him. Not quite as tall, significantly more muscular, far younger, but otherwise almost a carbon copy of himself. He sees, for the first time, the same set jaw and determined grey eyes, and nearly takes a step back. Instead, he adopts the same expression and stands his ground.

"I will make you regret this, _father._" He spits out the last word, his handsome features contorted in an ugly sneer, before he turns on his heel and strides from the room. Lucius slams the door after him with a flick of his wand.

bdbdbd

Severus, not expecting Draco for a while yet, glances up from his newspaper when he hears the door fly open and hit the wall, then bang shut again. He unfolds his legs and stands languidly, dropping the paper back onto the bedside table.

Draco is pacing back and forth in the living room, treading glass into the carpet under his expensive Italian leather shoes. He's flushed, and his hair is slightly windswept. He stops when he notices Severus leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms across his chest.

"He's cut me off! The bastard's actually _cut me off!" _He resumes his pacing. "He called me selfish and spoilt! Can you believe that? I don't know who the hell he thinks he - what are you smiling at?"

Severus struggles to hide his smirk. "Nothing, love. That's terrible. What are you going to do?"

"Well I certainly can't go back there, not with the way he's treating me. I was thinking, maybe..." He bites his bottom lip in false apprehension and glances at Severus from under his eyelashes. "...I could stay here with you?"

Severus pushes himself away from the door frame and takes a few steps towards Draco, reaching out a hand to caress his cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"If you wish. Although I think we both know you deserve better than this." He almost cringes at the low purr of his own voice and the compliments he's practically spoon-feeding the arrogant youth, like sickly sweet honey. Master of manipulation though he is, flattery does not sit well with Severus. Where Draco is concerned, however, he knows it will work. "How do you feel about moving away?"

"Somewhere better than this?"

"How does Florence sound, love?"

Draco's eyes light up and he grips Severus' arm excitedly.

"Really?"

"Really. I have some money put aside, that'll keep us until I can find a new job, and we can get our own home. It'll be a new life for us. What do you think?"

Although his eyes are still bright, Draco looks slightly uncertain. "I don't know..."

Severus draws him closer, cupping the back of Draco's neck and moving his thumb in small circles across his skin. He catches and holds his gaze, knowing the effect his dark eyes have on him.

"I just want to look after you, Draco. And this way you'll never have to see your father again. That _is_ what you want, isn't it?"

Draco says nothing for a moment, then starts to nod slowly. A smile spreads across his face and he kisses Severus lightly.

"When are we going?"

"As soon as possible. Today, if you want."

"Today?"

Severus just grins.

"Today." Draco repeats, reeling slightly from the speed his life has gained in the past few minutes. "I just have to go home and grab some things."

"Okay, you go home and pack. See you back here in a few hours?"

Draco nods and hurries from the flat, his mind racing. Severus returns to his bedroom and shrinks the trunk he has already packed, slipping it neatly into his pocket.

bdbdbd

Lucius sweeps elegantly through the Ministry, nodding politely to several colleagues but not speaking to any of them. Knowing that he is in a bad mood, they say nothing to him either, but merely offer meek, nervous smiles. He kicks half-heartedly at the house-elf employed to clean his office and slides into his chair.

He rifles through his post until he finds this morning's Daily Prophet, irritated that his assistant has yet to learn how he likes his desk organised. Still, she has only been there a week. There is still time to learn before he has her fired.

The headline, 'Worries Over Malfoy's New Man', does little to improve his mood. He almost flips over to the next page without a second glance, but something catches his eye. The picture accompanying the article is of a crowded bar. His son is in the centre of the picture, his expression indignant and almost scared, and there is a young man sprawled on the floor, looking ridiculously outraged, but it is neither of these things which grabs his attention.

There is another man in the picture. His face is only turned towards the newspaper's reader for an instant, but it is long enough for Lucius to see the distinctive arched nose; the unsmiling mouth; the black eyes sparkling with intelligence and distrust. His face is older, more defined, and his body is that of a man, not the scrawny teenager he once was, but the years have not altered Severus Snape that much.

Lucius stumbles from his chair, almost knocking it over in his haste, and apparates to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I've had internet problems. Anyway, here's the next chapter (finally!), hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 10

Draco, clasping a monogrammed briefcase containing his shrunken possessions, almost strides past his father's study, but a strange pang of guilt makes him stop. He glances at the door which had slammed shut behind him only an hour before and bites his lip, feeling for the first time something resembling filial responsibility. If he owes him nothing else, Draco owes his father an explanation.

He sighs in irritation and places the briefcase on the floor before cautiously pushing the door open, although he knows there's no one behind it. He jumps slightly when he enters the room to hear a sarcastic, arrogant drawl behind him.

"Come crawling back already, have you?"

Draco spins around and laughs at himself as he realises that it's only the portrait of his father, mounted on the wall opposite the desk. Ignoring him, Draco hastens to the desk and perches on the edge of the high-backed chair behind it. He finds spare parchment and an ink well on the dark, polished surface of the desk, and riffles impatiently through documents for a quill. The voice of his father pipes up again.

"What exactly do you think you're doing? You have no right-"

"Oh, shut up." He sighs again before pushing the chair back slightly and roughly opening one of the drawers. He grabs a quill and snaps the drawer closed again.

In his hurry, he nearly misses it.

As the drawer closes, a thin strip of light from a gap in the curtains falls to the floor beneath it. Something glints against the deep, opulent crimson of the carpet. Draco just catches it from the corner of his eye and looks back to see what had caused the sudden spark of silver. He bends down to pick it up and, as he looks at the face of the watch he recognises instantly, he feels his heart jolt before the shock settles as a hot, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach.

Although he's sure from the small emeralds marking twelve and six and the delicately engraved serpent moving subtly behind the smooth glass, he turns the watch in his shaking hands to stare blankly at the SS etched into the back of the cool metal.

"Why is this here?" He whispers to himself, his brow furrowed. He hears a small noise and glances up. His father's portrait hangs in front of him, his expression as dignified and proud as always, but with his lip curled slightly in disdain. He holds Severus' watch up to the painting. "Tell me what's going on."

bdbdbd

Severus yells suddenly and stumbles backwards as a sharp pain explodes in his head. His hand jumps to his temple and he scrunches his eyes shut, gripping the back of the desk chair. There's another intense burst of white-hot pain, which begins to pulse along his nerves, making his neck and jaw ache. The room starts to spin. He opens his eyes and everything in front of him is grey and distorted. He feels nails scratching against the inside of his skull, bony fingers clambering for a firm grasp of his mind. Whoever it is scrambling around inside his head, he's one of the best Legilimens Severus ever come across.

Suppressing the need to vomit, he takes a deep breath, gathers all the energy he can muster and pushes against the intruder. He gives another harsh cry, feeling their magic tangle together, attempting to force each other into submission. His entire body aches and bright spots dance across his line of vision, and then, just as quickly as it had come, the pressure in his head is gone. He's left panting for breath, nauseous, his legs shaking so much that it's a few minutes before he can loosen his hold on the back of the chair and trust that he won't fall. There are small, red dots on the floor. He raises his fingers to his nose and they come away covered in warm, sticky blood.

With a sense of dread, Severus realises that the Ministry are after him. He straightens his back, swaying unsteadily on his feet for a moment, before grabbing his wand and forcing himself to move forward, despite his body's protests. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and rushes from the flat.

bdbdbd

The portrait sighs huffily, sneering down at Draco. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Draco, still holding the watch up to the picture, gets up from his seat and crosses the floor to stand in front of it.

"This watch belongs to Severus Snape. What is it doing here?"

The sneer falls from his father's face and is replaced with a look of confusion and dread. His face pales.

"How do you know Snape?"

Draco falters for a moment, unsure whether or not he should tell him, but then decides that he has nothing to lose any more.

"We're in a relationship. In fact, we're running away together. Tonight."

"No." The portrait utters this under his breath. His eyes widen in sudden realisation. "You can't. You've no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Then tell me!"

"For once, can't you just do as I say?"

Draco scowls.

"I don't even obey my actual father, never mind a shabby representation of him. If you don't tell me, I'm leaving with Severus anyway."

The portrait pauses for a moment, unsure of what to do. He glances at the door in the vain hope that the real Lucius might return, then to the other portraits, who shrug unhelpfully. Finally he turns back to Draco, whose stubborn stance is betrayed by his worried eyes.

"Fine, I'll tell you, but you won't like it."

bdbdbd

Lucius strides quickly up the cold concrete steps, barely restraining himself from running. His heart is beating a loud, unsteady dance, and the only reason he is managing to remain calm is the small group of aurors behind him.

He finds the door to Severus' flat open and stops dead. The flat is still covered in broken glass and books. He enters cautiously, his stomach churning when he spots something that looks like blood on the floor. He leaves the aurors to search and goes to the only other door, his wand held out before him.

The bedroom's dark and he casts a quick lumos before hurriedly riffling through the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the bedside table. They're all empty, clothes hangers swaying slightly. He utters a strangled cry of frustration and slams the door shut, hearing the hangers knock against the thin wooden at the back of the wardrobe. He runs a hand through his hair, tapping his foot nervously, and tries to ignore the panic growing steadily in his chest and use the cool logic he knows the situation needs.

He takes a deep breath, and thinks about his son. He decides that either Snape has left without him, in which case he is safe, or they are planning to run away together. Given Snape's past, there is another option, but Lucius refuses to let himself consider that. He takes another look around the empty room, and something dawns on him. He knows very little about Draco, but what he does know is that he is vain and materialistic. He knows that the money he had spent on clothes is no small amount. And although _he_ knows that Snape could probably now afford to replace the clothes, if he is right about what a slippery bastard the man is, and he thinks he is right, Draco has no idea of the small fortune his lover has recently come into.

Lucius rushes from the room, instructing the aurors to keep searching, and starts toward Malfoy Manor.

bdbdbd

The portrait stalls for as long as he can, before starting with a last nervous glance at the door.

"Severus Snape is not a good man. He committed an unforgivable crime-"

"He killed someone. I know."

The portrait's eyes widen in shock. "He told you? And you stayed with him?"

Draco blushes, his pale cheeks blossoming pink as his eyes narrow defensively. "That's none of your business! You're evading the point. All of that happened in the past, I want to know what's going on now!"

The look the portrait gives him is half pitying, half envious. "You're so young, Draco. You don't understand what it is to have a past like that. It is not something that is satisfied with _staying_ in the past."

Although he doesn't say so, Draco thinks that it is something he may finally be beginning to understand. The portrait continues with a regretful sigh. "I bet there's something he left out, though. The reason he murdered that innocent muggle?"

Draco glances at his shoes, embarrassed. "He said somebody asked him too. He wouldn't..." He trails off as an ugly thought enters his head and, like all terrible suspicions it might be easier to ignore, to throw away and condemn ourselves for ever having considered, it sticks like a resilient stain. He looks back up at his father's portrait and any hope he has that he's wrong is dashed. "You."

"Yes." The portrait whispers. "I...your father...he was a Death Eater too. Amongst his crimes, one of them was persuading Severus to join. To spy." He takes a shuddering breath. "To kill."

Draco's brow furrows. "Crimes? He's never been to Azkaban though. He couldn't have been."

"No, he hasn't. He should have. Severus thinks so too, but what would he gain from turning him in? He's always been a clever little bastard."

"What are you talking about?"

The portrait laughs bitterly. "He's been blackmailing Lucius, Draco! It's been going on for months! Ten thousand galleons now and again- twenty thousand, thirty- and Lucius doesn't go to prison, his name's kept out of the Prophet, and you don't find out the shady details of his past. There's nothing left, Draco. No money. You have nothing." He laughs again as the truth finally comes out. "I told you, the past doesn't go away."

Suddenly, everything makes sense. The overtime his father's been putting in at the Ministry. The small improvements to Severus' house. Severus offering to take him out. His argument with his father, which seemed a lifetime ago, but could only have been a few hours before. The wine he turned his nose up at. The dust in his father's study. The staff he's had to let go. Draco sees his father at the dining room table, begging him to be careful. He gasps, like a diver coming up for air after too long under the crush of ice cold water.

His mind racing, finally cleared of the fog which has been enshrouding it for the past few months, Draco barely registers the soft click of the door. The room goes dark as the light from the hall is blocked and Draco glances up in alarm.

Severus is standing stiffly in front of the door, his wand drawn. His eyes are hard, and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

"You should have left it alone, Draco."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Neither of them speak. Draco can hear the heavy thud of his heartbeat, of the blood throbbing in his ears. The room is close and humid, nearly black, save for the thin shaft of light the curtains permit. Draco imagines the silence between them swelling, swallowing him, filling his eyes, his mouth, his lungs, creeping down his throat like fumes and turning to venom in his veins. For a moment, he wonders that he can breathe.

Severus sighs, runs his tongue over his lips. "Put your wand on the desk. And I'm warning you, love, don't try anything."

After a few seconds, Draco starts to move. He's careful not to hurry, partly to retain his dignity, but mostly because he needs time to think. He's scared; Snape knows that he's trying to keep his hands from shaking. He's angry too. In the split second before he reaches the desk, it's the anger that takes over, and he turns quickly, yelling "petrificus totalus". There's a brief flash of light as the spell is deflected.

Draco doesn't see Severus move.

He lets out a short cry of shock as he is crushed to the wall, the sharp point of his wand digging into his stomach and his right arm trapped between his chest and the cool stone. He gasps as Snape twists his left arm behind his back. His shoulder screams in protest. He screws his eyes shut when Severus presses a hand against his mouth. He tastes blood on his fingers.

Severus leans forward until his lips lightly brush Draco's ear. Draco sobs at the familiar weight of the man against his back. "Did you really think you could overpower me, boy?" Severus hisses, letting out a bitter, humourless laugh. His breathing is even.

When he speaks again his voice is gentle, almost regretful. "I don't want to hurt you Draco." Draco doesn't miss the threat. "If I take my hand away from your mouth, do you promise me you won't scream?"

Draco nods, and then breathes deeply as the hand is removed. It snakes around his stomach and grips his wand.

"Let go."

Draco reluctantly surrenders his wand. Severus slips it into his pocket.

"I'm going to let go of you. If you try to fight me, you will lose. Understand?"

There is a weightless feeling in his arm as his wrist is released and Severus takes a step back. Draco turns quickly and slaps Severus, who barely flinches. His jaw twitches as he attempts to keep hold of his temper.

"I'll let you get away with that this once, love, because I probably deserve it-"

"'Probably'?" Draco's voice has a slightly hysterical note. "You used me! You used me to get back at my father. All these months you've been lying to me-"

"I never lied to you." Severus runs a hand through his hair.

"Fine, then. Deceived me, whatever."

"And yes, I used you. But not to hurt Lucius." He pauses. For a moment to only sounds in the room are Draco's occasional sobs. "Do you know anything about the wards on this house? I knew a man in prison-" Draco snorts. Severus ignores him. "He used to be a ministry official who specialised in setting up household wards. He created a type of ward which would let anyone through as long as their signature was already there. He set that type of ward around this house, secretly of course. He intended to break in, but got caught trying to rob Gringotts before he got the chance."

Draco has stopped crying. The look on his face is a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"The point is, I needed someone to get me into the house initially, then I'd be able to come and go as I pleased." He has the good grace to look slightly sheepish. "Then I saw your picture in the Prophet, and everything fell into place."

Draco laughs hollowly. "Sounds like the perfect plan."

"It was, until I fucked it up." He takes a cautious step towards Draco, then raises his hand to touch Draco's cheek lightly. He flinches away. "I should have left you as soon as you brought me here. But I couldn't." He takes a shaky breath. "Because I fell in love with you, Draco."

"Liar." Draco spits, taking a step back.

"I'm not lying. If I was still just using you, why would I have come to get you? The Ministry are after me, love. I need to leave London, now. Please come with me."

Severus' eyes have softened. There's something different in the lines of his face, the worried slant of his eyebrows. Something desperate, something pleading. Draco bites his lip, wanting to believe Severus, wanting to close his eyes and make it all go away, let it be someone else's problem.

Suddenly the door springs open, crashing loudly against the wall. Draco hears his father's voice, a frantic curse; sparks flash; the clock is blasted from the wall. The room is still. Draco swallows with difficulty and realises that he's been screaming. His throat is raw.

Severus and Lucius stand three feet apart, their wands pointed at one another's chests, their eyes locked.

"Draco, go to your room. Snape and I have things to sort out."

"No." Draco's voice is a whisper.

"Draco, for Merlin's sake do as you're told!"

"I know about the things you've done."

Lucius sighs. "We can talk about that later. Please Draco, I'm just thinking about what's best for you now."

Severus sneers. "Makes a change."

"Don't you dare try to poison my son any more than you already have."

"I don't need to, Lucius."

Draco spots his wand poking out of Severus' pocket. Severus and Lucius keep their eyes trained on one another, neither daring to break their gaze. It's close, probably within arms reach. He looks back and forth between the two men, their faces contorted with hate.

"You think you know him, Draco, but you don't."

Severus laughs cruelly. "Oh he knows me, Lucius. The things he knows about me." He lowers his voice, smirking. "The things I know about him."

Lucius' nostrils flare. "You sick pervert. I will kill you for touching my son."

"STUPEFY!"

Draco's hands shake. He keeps his arm extended, his wand held so tightly his knuckles are white. Lucius lies crumpled in the corner, blood bright and accusing against his white-blond hair. Severus lowers his wand and turns to Draco.

"Come with me."

"I need time to think, Severus." Draco runs a hand through his hair, brushing harshly at the fresh tears on his cheek. Severus grips his arm lightly, gently turning his jaw, forcing the younger man to look at him.

"I don't have time, love."

Draco's bites his lip.

"There's a train leaving in forty-five minutes for Florence. I have to be on that train. I'll wait for you there, but I can't wait any longer." He lowers his head and catches Draco's lower lip between his. He strokes Draco's cheek lightly, kisses away a tear, then reluctantly lets go of his arm and heads for the door, stepping over Lucius' legs. He turns back once, the light from the hallway illuminating his features.

"Please be there."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Draco stares at his father. He isn't crying any more, his breathing is so soft his chest barely moves and the tension has fallen from his shoulders. He is very still. Lucius hasn't moved yet, but Draco is sure it won't be long before he comes around, and he needs to make a decision before that happens.

His life thus far has been guided by other people, from the control his parents wielded when he was a child to the influence his peers had over him in his teenage years. Even the media has led him to change his behaviour, to strive to be the attractive, charismatic socialite they want.

For the past few months, it has been Severus.

He needs this decision to be his, and only his. Severus' watch tells him that he's running out of time. He closes his eyes and blocks out the world.

bdbdbd

Severus taps his foot against the rough concrete of the platform, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The station is almost deserted, as he knew it would be. There's an announcement which he barely hears. A plastic bag is blown against his leg by the mild wind. He shakes it off irritably.

It's dark for so early in the evening, not like the smooth, inky blackness of a clear night, but like the dim haze of winter fog. The clouds hang low in the sky, more grey than white, and the quiet rumble of thunder promises a storm.

Severus thinks of dingy corridors and cracked prison walls. He thinks of brightly coloured liquids in glass bottles, pounding music, white sheets against flawless skin, flickering street lamps, silver cuff links, shattered porcelain, cigarettes held by elegant fingers to perfect lips, bruised lips, the moving pictures of the Daily Prophet, long legs sprawled over the arm of his chair, his watch, his scars, Draco's eyes, Draco's sneer.

The clouds finally burst, and the rain comes in floods, soaking the sun-drenched earth. It's cool against Severus' upturned face. And as the first fork of lightening pierces the sky, and the rolling thunder is joined by the sound of wheels on train tracks, Severus is sure he sees a flash of white-blond hair, and a thin plume of smoke approaching from the distance.

Fin.

A.N. Thank you everyone who's read and reviewed :) I'm thinking of writing a sequel, so any thoughts on this would also be appreciated.


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